


Fantasy

by Evandar



Series: 100fandoms Challenge [4]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Unintentional Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22449871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evandar/pseuds/Evandar
Summary: The Dark Lord’s speech is one of the rote recruitment speeches that are released twice a year, but the focus on flight and the piloting program seems to have touched a chord with the man because there’s a hint of passion in his deep voice that usually isn’t there.Stuck on Tatooine, Luke watches Imperial recruitment videos and dreams.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Darth Vader
Series: 100fandoms Challenge [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1432576
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liz_mo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liz_mo/gifts).



> This isn't one of my usual fandoms, so please be kind.

He downloads the recruitment video to his datapad before he leaves the Darklighter homestead. He’d watched it with Biggs earlier, admiring the sleek lines of the Empire’s new fleet out loud and the tall silhouette of Lord Vader more privately. He’s learned to keep his observations about the Emperor’s second-in-command to himself over the years, and he knows that he’ll have to keep his copy of the video a secret. The Empire isn’t popular in these parts, and while his aunt and uncle are particularly scathing behind closed doors, they aren’t alone in their opinions. The recruiters take too many youngsters into their ranks and none ever seem to return when they retire. Military service is the easiest way to leave the planet, after all, and Tatooine has little except barren sand, impossible heat and the last vestiges of slavery to offer anyone.

Even after Luke returns home, his datapad burns at his awareness for the rest of the day. He ignores it as much as he can, hiding it in his room as he completes his chores and eats his dinner and waits in the dark until his uncle’s snores begin to echo through the house. He _itches_ to watch the video again. To enjoy it properly this time instead of just looking at the TIE fighters and Star Destroyers - not that he doesn’t want to pilot them himself one day. Just. 

_Properly._

Once he’s sure his aunt and uncle are asleep, he grabs his datapad off his desk where he tucked it away amongst half-built bots and old wires, and he flicks it on. Accessing the video is the work of seconds, and Luke settles back onto his pillows as the familiar introduction music plays. He rests the pad on his chest for a moment as the Imperial insignia dominates the screen, and he works his sleep-clothes and his underwear down over his hips, baring himself to the cool night air. He shivers, tracing fingers through the curls around the base of his cock. 

The Imperial Insignia fades into the black of space pricked with distant stars. It lingers for only a moment before the view pulls back to reveal the sleek command centre onboard one of the Empire’s Star Destroyers, and the tall, armoured form of Darth Vader. 

Luke’s cock twitches. The rasp of Lord Vader’s mechanical breathing fills his ears. The Dark Lord’s speech is one of the rote recruitment speeches that are released twice a year, but the focus on flight and the piloting program seems to have touched a chord with the man because there’s a hint of passion in his deep voice that usually isn’t there. 

Darth Vader is renowned for being, amongst other things, the best pilot in the galaxy. It makes sense that this approach would interest him more than any of the others. 

As he talks, Luke continues to tease himself until he’s fully hard. He filters out the words of the speech and listens to the tone, to the breathing. He moans low in his throat. 

It’s so easy to imagine Vader in front of him. So easy to imagine his hands on Luke’s body - they would be large and cold and he would keep his gloves on as he caressed Luke’s chest and his sides. There would be something clinical about it, Luke thinks, wrapping his hand around the base of his prick. Vader’s mask hides so much: no one knows who he really is or what he looks like, and it gives nothing away as to his mood or expression. Nothing. Luke knows he would be able to see himself reflected in its durasteel curves, wanton and flushed as Vader pushed his legs apart to bare him completely. 

He begins to stroke himself. The propaganda video ends and he taps frantically at the screen of the datapad until it begins to play again. 

In his mind’s eye, it’s Vader’s hand on him. The Dark Lord is looming over him, watching him as he works at Luke’s erection. Luke tips his head back, arching. The datapad slides off his chest to land on the bed next to him. He ignores it, not needing the images so much as the sound of breathing and that dark, wonderful voice. 

His loose sleep-clothes are changed, in his mind, to the tight black uniform of an Imperial fighter pilot. His bed becomes a hard flight console. He writhes as Vader pins him in place, looking down at him with that blank mask. His breath and his touch are impersonal, but the words he says - the soft encouragement to _give himself_ and _devote_ himself _utterly_ \- betray Vader’s interest in his talented new recruit. 

Vader leans down, his voice rumbling through Luke, deep enough that he feels its vibrations in his chest. 

_“You will belong to me,”_ he says. 

Luke comes, whimpers of “yes” and “please” spilling from his lips as he makes a mess of his chest and belly. He keeps his eyes closed, imagines Vader making him lick his seed from gloved fingers before allowing Luke to press the briefest of kisses to the sharp lines of his mask. 

The video, he realises, has ended. He opens his eyes. His room is dark shadows and desert moonlight, and not the artificial lighting of a spaceship. He sighs, wipes himself off on his sleep-clothes and rescues his datapad from its rumpled nest of sheets. 

He saves the video in the same folder as all the others, and checks - again - the date. The recruiters are going to be in Mos Eisley in a few days and his mind is already made up: he’s going to enlist.


End file.
